


from lilliput to blefuscu

by kangeiko



Series: Nostos [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Medical Procedures, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Spinal Injury, Tony Is a Good Bro, Tony has his priorities straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: Rhodey is finally released from the hospital and decides to visit Tony.





	from lilliput to blefuscu

**Author's Note:**

> One small scene from New York that needs to take place before we can get into the meat of the story.
> 
> And hey, I finally named the series! Although, Nostos isn't terribly imaginative, so let's pretend I picked something clever instead.

Eventually, they let him leave the hospital.

Rhodes considered calling Tony to let him know, but decided against it. He had a wheelchair and he had his medication and his… other equipment, and Tony was busy working on the design of the braces. It wasn't really a surprise that Tony’s reaction would be one of trying to fix things, Rhodes thought. 

Well, he knew that Tony planned to stop by the hospital later that day, so unless he wanted Tony to turn up and discover him AWOL, he'd have to let him know, one way or the other. 

He'd settled on the direct approach. Luckily, the route to Tony’s workshop was step-free. 

The glass was tinted, indicating lockdown. 

“FRIDAY, it's me. Let me in,” Rhodes said, rolling his wheelchair up to the main door. 

There was a small pause. 

“Stand by,” FRIDAY replied. “The boss will come out to you.”

OK, that was new. “Is he all right?” He asked as the doors whooshed open and Tony stepped through.

“I'm fine, honey bear,” Tony said, reaching down to hug him firmly. “How are you doing? Did you really leave the hospital wearing _that_ , that's appalling, I'm appalled, FRIDAY, take a note at how appalled I am that no one gave my honey bear a better outfit than this.” 

“Noted, Boss,” FRIDAY said drily, at the same time as Rhodey snorted. 

“I'm - it's fine, I'm OK, _stop it_ ,” because it wasn't actually a hug, it turned out, but Tony discreetly groping him and the wheelchair in one swift movement. “If you want to get into my pants there are other ways.” Ones that didn't involve careful fingers checking his stitches. 

“I'll make sure to follow up on that,” Tony said with a distracted leer. He still hadn't taken his hands away from Rhodes’s hips. “Your doctors have been both distressingly low-tech with your medical records and also annoyingly literal about what constitutes a right to medical information. I hadn't been able to get an update in _hours_. How's the sensation here?” He pressed his fingers… somewhere. 

Rhodes could feel a faint echo of them, as if someone was touching an anaesthetised bit of skin. The liminal area, then, around his hips. The skin that was and wasn't his; the parts that he could feel but could not control. Tony had prodded him in the same spot every time he visited him in hospital, as if trying to stretch that zone downwards through sheer willpower. “Stop copping a feel,” he said, and pushed Tony away. “Take me out to dinner first.”

Tony finally stepped back and smiled. “Who sprung you?”

“No one needed to spring me, I wasn't being detained,” Rhodes said, hedging a little. His last shift nurse had been the most cooperative so far, and he had taken full advantage of that.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Discharging yourself AMA isn't the smartest move in the world, Rhodey.”

Yeah, no. “I can wait it out at home as easily as I can in the hospital. Also, you are in no position to ever lecture me against ignoring medical advice. Like, _ever_." He had to spend enough time being treated in one clinic or another; that didn't mean he'd have to _live_ there. 

Besides. It hadn't been against medical advice, not really. (That would have invalidated his insurance, and God knew, he wasn't going to have _that_ conversation with the Air Force any earlier than he needed to.) His doctors had just felt that he could have done with an extra week of sitting around and having someone aggressively feed him jello. Once he had the shift nurse to speak up for him, they'd acquiesced to an outpatient arrangement readily enough. 

That was practically proof of recovery, right there. 

Tony considered this a moment. “Well, I can get you prettier candy stripers at home, sure.”

“As long as you're not the one in the white and red outfit, I'll take whatever is available. Can I come in?” He inclined his head towards the still-open door. 

That got Tony moving. “Oh! Sure.” He slipped behind wheelchair and - after a pause and a nod from Rhodes - pushed him towards the open door. “Sorry, I was gonna re-do the design before you came over, I didn't realise you were staging a prison break so soon.” 

As the wheelchair eased over the lip, Rhodes suddenly understood. He'd forgotten about the single step down into the workshop. He'd learn to navigate the simple obstacles in time - or so his physiotherapist kept saying - but for the moment, even small steps like this were hard on him. Especially with the additional equipment strapped around him and hampering his movements even further. 

It was a bit of a shock. (A small thing, not something that should have made his breath catch.) And Tony was fixing it, he'd doubtless raise the floor or put in a ramp or whatever. He'd already provided him with a prototype version of the braces. It had been clunky and painful to wear, but it had him back on his feet (sort of, for a few minutes as a time, anyway), and doubtless Tony already had a second version underway. 

“You OK?"

Rhodes realised he'd been holding his breath. “Sure. Just - forgot this bit.” He managed a smile. “That fancy Zimmer frame of yours is going to come in handy.”

Tony made a face at him as he parked the chair next to the worktop and stepped away to tap at the coffee machine in the corner. After a moment, it started to hiss and spit coffee into the little espresso cup underneath the spout. “They're a breakthrough in bionic prosthe- OK, you know what, I'm not even going to start, you insult me, you insult my babies, you don't like my presents, I see how it is.” He stroked an idle finger along the top of the coffee machine. 

Since when did Tony have a coffee machine in his workshop? Usually he made it a point to venture up to the kitchen for caffeine. He had said it was a strategy to out-maneuver himself out of his tendency for self-isolation. (Rhodes approved of both the accuracy of the self-realisation and of Tony turning his own sneakiness on himself.) But the machine had clearly made its own space in the corner, and there was a tall rack of brightly-coloured pods next to it as well. Not proper espresso, then, but the pod version that would do when Tony was pulling an all-nighter. 

“I'm just here for the coffee,” Rhodes confirmed, wheeling himself up to the other side of the worktop and squinting at the espresso maker. “Is this new?”

“You love my coffee machine more than you love me,” Tony said mournfully and handed over the tiny cup of ambrosia. “Are you even supposed to be drinking that? I could make you a smoothie instead. Or, well, have DUM-E do it. Actually, the coffee is probably less likely to kill you.”

Off in its charging station in the corner, DUM-E made a sad whirling sound.

Tony glared at it. “Don't you start, that last one wasn't even _close_. There is nothing digestible that fluoresces like that and you should know better.”

“Oh, he's just trying to make you nice things to look after you, don't yell at him. It's not his fault you haven't explained the human digestive system to them properly.” Rhodes patted his side, stretching a little. The coffee tasted _so good_. “Anyway, I'm still plugged in, don't worry about it.”

He realised his mistake a moment later when Tony’s eyes widened. 

“You left the hospital with it still _in_?” Tony yelped. He put his own cup down, scowling. “Do I need to call someone to collect you? Seriously, Rhodey, and you yell at me about stuff like this!”

OK, that stung a bit. “It's a fucking catheter, not a bomb,” he said irritably. “A nurse will stop by my place later and check on me.” 

There wasn't actually any choice in that, it had been a condition of his release. It had also been outside of his insurance, and Rhodes knew that Tony had put his credit card behind the counter, so to speak, but he's going to pay Tony back for every cent not covered. Every fucking cent. This was not on Tony. It was not his responsibility to pay Rhodes’s way, and although there are bills that Rhodes knows he will not find out about - Tony simply taking care of them at the source before he even hears about them - what he does know about, he will pay himself. 

It was not Tony’s responsibility. It was not Tony’s _fault._

It was no-one’s fault. Not really. (That's what made it so galling. He doesn't even have an enemy to hate.)

There was a long pause. Tony still looked pissed, which probably translated to worried in Tony-speak. Rhodes relented after a moment. “The spinal shock hasn't finished doing its thing, yet, so this is the option that gives me most freedom for the moment. I'm still going in daily for the checks and everything else, and they'll have a nurse stop by once a day as well. It's almost exactly the same as being admitted, except I get to sleep in my own damn bed.” _Hallelujah_. The lack of mandated visiting hours was also a blessing he intended to take full advantage of. Sitting around in the hospital, knowing he was supposed to be sleeping and not being able to do anything about it, had been one of the less pleasant experiences. 

(The other was, hands down, the daily rounds. Rhodes had had quite enough of being prodded by residents trying to excel in front of their attendings.)

Tony was silent for a long moment. “They said two months,” he said quietly. 

_Fuck._ Well, this wasn't a surprise. Rhodes wasn't the only one who could read a calendar. And clearly he hadn't been the only person keeping a countdown, either. “They said two to three months _on average_.” Rhodes bit his lip. “Could you do me a favour and pretend that you weren't expecting me to recover immediately, and you're not writing off what could _still be_ just spinal shock to something permanent? The doctors are pretty confident, Tony, OK?” He - that had come out sounding a lot more angry than he had intended. 

Tony nodded, still pale. “Sorry, honey bear,” he said, and he sounded genuinely contrite. “That was a bit shitty of me. You're absolutely right, and I'm sorry for stressing you out for no reason.”

He was probably laying it on a bit thick, but Rhodes didn't especially want to examine it overly much. Rhodes had done his own panicking earlier- privately, stewing in fear and humiliation as he'd carefully strapped down the catheter and attached bag to his legs. He hadn't lied: the doctors were still convinced it was spinal shock, and that he'd regain bladder control eventually. What he didn't want to do was have that conversation with anyone who wasn't a medical professional. Even Tony. 

Especially Tony. 

“Anyway,” he said, trying to recover some of his earlier mood, “I came down to see what you have been working on.”

Tony gave him a grateful and repentant look, clearly seeing the change of subject as the forgiveness it was. “Well, presents for my sugar plum, of course!” He waved away the holographic schematics above the worktop - which actually looked more like medical equipment than anything else, please God let him not be working on anything that included ‘experimental surgery’ in the instruction leaflet - and called up the familiar-looking lines of the braces. “I'm having a play around with the pressure points on version 2 of these, I think if we refocus the interface to be above the sacral spinal cord section, we might have better control over lateral movement. What do you think?” 

Above the worktop, the holographic braces twisted around a vague outline of a human, the spinal cord clearly lighting up with each movement. “Are you still working on the implanted interface option?” Rhodes asked doubtfully, wheeling himself closer. He wasn't sure why the option was so distasteful to him. If it had been an artificial bridge correcting the damage to the injured area, he would have been 100% in favour of it. But, somehow, the idea of implanting something that messed with his spinal cord in an area that was undamaged… 

_You don't want to risk losing what you have left,_ he thought with a sigh. If the damage became more widespread through a botched surgery…

He trusted Tony. He trusted his doctors. But every surgery has attendant risks, and he had already lost so much. He wasn't sure he could convince himself to go under the knife for something that wouldn't give him what he wanted. 

He wanted to be ‘back on his feet’; of course he did. But being back on his feet wasn't the reason a nurse would be visiting him a few hours from now, or why he was going back to the hospital for another scan the next day. Being back on his feet would alleviate some of Tony’s guilt. But it wasn't what made Rhodes wake up in a cold sweat more nights than not.

(In one recurring dream, he's on the bed and his friends are crowded around, jostling him for space. He can't do anything for himself because he is pinned down by needles and wires and IVs and Tony is there, holding his hand and wiping his tears away. _It's OK,_ Tony says, and his voice sounds far away. _You can't help it. No one is blaming you._

When Rhodes looks down, he can see the slow spread of the wet stain across the blankets at his groin. The sharp, acrid smell of ammonia stings his eyes.)

No, being upright would be a good thing to retain, sure. But is not what is keeping Rhodes awake at night. 

“I'm not sure if the implant is the best option,” Tony said, watching him carefully. “I think growing the replacement is still the preferred option, but if that's not possible or too far away, we could still get a lot of the controlled movement from the liminal areas. The implant option still seems very invasive at the current generation of available tech.” 

The ‘current generation’ accelerating a lot faster than it previously had, because of course Tony’s entire focus was now on this. 

The medical schematics, Rhodes suddenly realised. That's what they would have been for. 

A sudden, painful hope bloomed in his chest and he tamped it down with an effort. It would be a long way off, if it was even possible. (And besides. Besides, his own body might have a few tricks left up its sleeve, still. He still had some time. It wasn't over yet.) “I want to see where I stabilise,” Rhodes said after a moment. “And what the development time is. The external interface option should work for most things.” 

The liminal areas, again. Or maybe the contact lens option, which was a few generations down the line, but still worth exploring. It would be a new thing, to learn to direct lower body movement with his eyes rather than his thoughts, but it was no different than learning it through conscious muscle spasms in his hips, he supposed. And at least the eye-directed movements held a hope of giving him working knees. 

(It would be enough, to have that. It would be more than enough for what he needed, he was sure of it. His body would be able to meet the tech halfway.)

“Let’s have a look at it, then.” He grabbed one of the tablets lying on the worktop - he had to stretch a little to reach it, and he saw Tony struggle with the urge to get it for him - and pulled up the accompanying notes to the schematics spinning in front of them. “Well?”

Tony plunked himself down heavily on the nearest stool and pulled the hologram so it was sitting low enough for them to both have a decent view of it. He was rubbing his chest absent-mindedly, Rhodes saw, up and down the sternum, below where the reactor had used to sit. (His body was still remembering the reactor, probably; his fingers had yet to realise that the ache was in a place he could reach, rather than skirt around tentatively.) “All right, let us turn our hymnals to page 6: load-bearing joints.” 

He looked at Rhodes from under his lashes, his expression hesitant. He was worried, Rhodes saw. The braces, sure, but the medical equipment? The artificial replacement? That was more Dr Cho’s area than Tony’s, who had never met an IV that he did not see as extraneous. 

And yet here he was, head down over something he was wholly unfamiliar with, teaching himself this brand new area because he had to. Because his friend was hurt. 

Because Rhodes was relying on Tony, one way or the other, to meet him halfway. To cut him free of at least some of the ropes tying him down. 

Oh, God, he loved the idiot. "Hey, Tony," he interrupted. "I haven't asked yet. You doing OK? I mean, with everything. With - things."

They hadn't discussed it. Not after that first, halting conversation. 

Tony smiled at him, a little wistfully. "Sure, thing, Rhodey. All the better for seeing you out and about, of course." _Up and about,_ was the phrase, Rhodes thought. He could see the uncertainty melting across Tony's face as he realised what he had said. Rhodes gave a small nod, smiling a little, and Tony cleared his threat. “So, anyway, you can see that -”

Rhodes thought about pushing, but he resisted the temptation. If he wasn't ready to talk, there was no reason to suppose that Tony was, either. And they had time on their side, after all. 

(In some of his dreams - in most of them - he is flying. Those are the worst ones, because he does not see the blow coming. His vision is instead filled with clouds and the ground, tumbling around him, Tony’s screams in his ears, the bitter taste of adrenaline on his tongue. )

They'd be OK, eventually. 

(He wakes up dazed and disorientated, tangled in the lines from his catheter and his monitors and his panic button and all the other ways in which those who loved him tied him down to his bed.)

It was early days yet. 

*

fin

**Author's Note:**

> I have zero medical knowledge, so I've probably messed up at least five times in the above. If anyone spots anything particularly egregious, please do let me know.


End file.
